PAM. 

BIOS. 


2>avib  H.  £>a&  EX  EX 


iXbe  Ibero  of 
flbublenbero. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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https://archive.org/details/davidadayheroofmOOgund 


NO.  163. 


DAVID  A.  DAY,  D.  D. 

THE  HERO  OF  MUHLENBERG. 


By  Sarah  I.  Van  Gundy. 


In  the  first  year  of  the  stirring  decade  that 
marks  the  middle  of  our  century,  the  life  of  which 
this  is  to  be  a  loving  sketch  was  begun. 

A  little  late  it  was  to  win  the  military  fame  that 
has  been  the  pride  of  our  nation  to  the  present 
day,  but  just  in  time  to  kindle  a  boy’s  military 
enthusiasm  and  to  develop  a  nobler  heroism — to 
tune  to  martial  strains  a  life  spent  on  a  larger 
battle  field  from  which  the  victor  has  but  now  re¬ 
tired. 

Dike  the  ruddy  Hebrew  youth  of  long  ago,  this 
boy  David  was  a  country  lad.  As  the  Judean  shep¬ 
herd  found  in  the  simplicity  of  his  life,  strength 
of  body  and  a  fine  independence  of  spirit,  the 
David  of  our  sketch,  in  a  boyhood  by  no  means 
care  free,  found  many  of  the  blessed  influences 
that  molded  his  after  life.  Here  were  the  ele¬ 
ments  that  give  sturdiness  and  individuality. 


Living  much  in  the  open  air,  nature  gave  herself 
to  him  in  all  the  sweetness  of  her  power, — the 
hills  ennobled  him,  the  meadows  enriched,  the 
stars  gave  him  their  calm,  and  the  streams  were 
his  vision  of  peace. 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this,  childhood 
picture,  fruitful,  too,  we  know  in  later  years,  but 
bitter  to  the  yearning  heart  of  a  child.  He  was 
often  alone  and  lonely.  It  makes  the  tears  start 
even  now  to  hear  that  on  his  last  visit  to  America, 
Dr.  Day  said  to  a  friend  that,  “as  a  friendless  and 
neglected  boy,  he  had  more  than  once  cried  him¬ 
self  to  sleep  because  no  one  cared  for  him.”  He 
had  a  great  longing  for  some  good  person  to  say 
a  sympathetic  word  to  him.  What  return  he 
made  a  selfish  world  for  these  unhappy  child 
moments  his  whole  life  testifies.  No  soul  in  need 
ever  came  near  that  sympathetic  nature  wTho  was 
not  uplifted  and  enriched,  not  alone  because  he 
had  known  need  himself,  but  because  that  fine 
personality  was  filled  with  the  spirit  of  Him  who 
without  a  place  to  lay  his  head  called  the  weary 
ones  to  come  to  Him  and  find  rest. 

In  another  way,  the  boyhood  of  David  Day  was 
like  that  of  David,  the  Shepherd  of  Judah.  Into 
the  quiet  oi  his  life  came  early  the  excitement  of 

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war.  Rumors  of  invasion,  and  even  sounds  of 
battle  reached  liis  home  in  Southern  Pennsylvania. 
Like  the  other  boy,  he  was  eager  to  be  near,  and 
found  employment  in  care  of  government  horses 
at  Harrisburg.  Then,  during  the  last  year  of 
the  war,  J.ie  enlisted,  serving  eight  months,  and 
receiving  an  honorable  discharge. 

The  close  of  the  war  marks  distinctly  the  step 
from  boyhood  to  37outh.  Here  is  the  part  of  this 
beautiful  life  upon  which  we  should  like  most  to 
linger — those  days  of  growth,  when  the  traits 
that  made  the  man,  our  missionary  hero,  were 
clearly  marked  in  the  frank,  earnest,  fun-loving, 
pure  tongued  boy,  eager  to  read,  longing  to  ac¬ 
quire  and  to  excel,  making  friendships  that  were 
to  last  while  life  lasted,  one  m  whom  teachers 
and  friends  even  then  saw  signs  of  pre-eminence 
among  his  fellows. 

It  was  the  usual  round  of  country  life,  farm 
work  in  summer,  school  in  winter,  and  a  term’s 
teaching  before  going  away  for  more  advanced 
study.  During  this  period  came  the  first  call  to 
disciplesliip — the  “Follow  Me”  which,  answered 
in  the  ardor  of  youth,  led  to  one  consecration 
upon  another,  until  he  had  preached  to  the  utter- 


most  parts  of  the  earth,  knowing  always  whose 
was  the  presence  that  wTent  with  him. 

Schoolmates  have  written  most  tenderly  of  the 
years  spent  at  Selins’  Grove,  in  Missionary  Insti¬ 
tute.  The  boyhood  story  of  cheerful  self-denial, 
of  untiring  energy  and  keen  interest  is  repeated 
and  intensified  by  the  man’s  determination,  first 
to  preach,  second  to  offer  himself  for  foreign 
mission  work. 

When  he  is  ready,  the  work  is  waiting — not  ex¬ 
actly  wThat  he  expected,  for  he  had  the  India  field 
in  mind,  but  he  was  ready  to  undertake  what  the 
church  thought  his  duty,  and  June,  1874,  found 
him  and  his  bride  alone,  in  Muhlenberg  Mission, 
Africa.  From  this  point  the  work  of  one  brave 
and  efficient  missionary  cannot  be  mentioned 
without  including  the  other.  Mrs.  Day’s  call,  to 
work  w'as  no  less  distinct  than  that  of  her  hus¬ 
band — her  love  for  him  and  devotion  to  the  wrork 
for  which  they  both  gave  their  lives  can  scarcely 
be  distinguished. 

It  is  no  light  thing  now  to  undertake  missionary 
work  in  Liberia,  but  twenty-five  years  ago  the 
prospect  was  much  less  cheerful.  For  all  who 
come  after,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Day  have  cleared  the 
way,  and  they  did  it  so  uncomplainingly,  with 

4 


*  such  devoted  zeal,  that  they  kept  the  dark  things 
out  of  our  thoughts.  They  so  filled  our  minds 
with  the  needs  of  the  mission — the  schools,  the 
coffee  plantation,  the  steamboat,  industrial  train¬ 
ing,  plans  for  enlargement,  pictures  of  the  home 
life  they  were  giving  the  African  boys  and  girls, 
their  belief  in  the  possibilities  of  the  Dark  Conti¬ 
nent,  all  that  made  the  daily  round  of  that 
crowded,  self-forgetful  life  of  theirs  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  that  it  was  only  when  the 
tidings  reached  the  church  at  home  of  the  failing 
health  of  recruits  sent  out,  or  the  oft-repeated 
story  of  the  burial  service  in  the  mission  church 
and  another  grave  in  the  little  cemetery,  when 
the  sweet  children  were  with  beautiful  patience 
and  trust  laid  to  rest,  and  still  the  brave  hearts 
wrote  home,  “Beloved,  it  is  well  !  God’s  ways  are 
always  right,” — only  then  we  understood  what 
they  endured  for  the  Gospel’s  sake,  and  thanked 
God  for  the  strength  they  gave  us. 

The  history  of  these  long,  crowded  years  is  our 
church’s  most  familiar  possession.  Every  boy 
and  girl  knows  of  it.  Farthest  from  home, 
Muhlenberg  Mission  was  brought  nearest  to  our 
hearts  by  the  heart  of  a  great  man— great  in 
heart,  head  and  hand.  He  was  counsellor,  friend 

5 


and  father  to  the  dark  people  of  the  West  Coast, 
and  his  plans  for  Africa’s  redemption  were  so  far 
reaching  that  it  will  be  many  years  before  our 
mission  work  outgrows  his  ideas.  It  ought  not  be 
long  before  his  spirit,  finding  its  way  to  onr 
hearts,  prompts  us  to  send  such  aid  as  shall  bring 
about  the  enlargements  for  which  he  longed. 

After  that  last  visit  home  in  1893,  the  sympathy 
of  all  who  knew  Muhlenberg  Mission  was  ten¬ 
derly  with  Dr.  Day.  Mrs.  Day’s  long  struggle 
with  African  fever,  the  journey  home,  and  her 
death,  brave  and  sweet  as  her  life  had  been, 
while  Dr.  Day  stood  by  his  lonely  duty  in  the 
African  field,  mark  these  Christian  heroes  as  in¬ 
finitely  beyond  those  of  battle  field  stor}^. 

Several  years  more  of  patient  work,  and  Dr. 
Day  cheerily  welcomed  the  ardent  young  workers 
to  the  field,  none  too  soon,  for  his  health  was 
sadly  broken.  How  anxious  we  were  to  hear 
that  he  had  yielded  to  persuasion  and  sought  rest 
in  another  climate,  how  glad  that  one  who  is  now 
patiently  and  cheerfully  keeping  on  with  the  work 
he  left  behind  was  by  him  to  comfort  him  through 
the  days  and  nights  of  suffering.  We  awaited 
the  home  coming,  hoping  that  for  long  years  the 
strong  heart  might  be  spared  to  strengthen  the 

6 


church.  But  there  came  anxious  tidings,  and  we 
waited  ;  then,  one  day  out  from  New  York— the 
end. 

During  those  last  days  of  suffering,  mingled  by 
delirium,  were  the  thoughts  of  the  mission’s 
needs  and  the  boyhood  memories  of  warfare. 
“Close  up  the  ranks,”  he  repeated,  “Close  up  the 
ranks.” 

Not  many  days  after  this,  his  young  countrymen 
were  girding  themselves  for  warfare — a  manly 
contest — but  it  was  a  call  to  higher  patriotism  that 
formed  the  last  message  of  this  man  of  God  to 
the  youth  of  to-day — a  call  to  fill  up  and  close  up 
the  ranks  until  all  the  kingdoms  of  earth  have 
become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  Christ  Jesus. 

The  brave  soldier’s  triumph  has  come.  Thus 
John  Bunyan  described  it  : 

“After  this  it  was  noised  about  that  Mr.  Valiant- 
for-Trutli  was  taken  with  a  summons.  When  he 
understood  it  he  called  for  his  friends  and  told 
them  of  it.  Then,  said  he,  T  am  going  to  my 
Father’s  ;  and  though  with  great  difficulty  I  got 
hither,  yet  now  I  do  not  repent  me  of  all  the 
trouble  I  have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I  am.  My 
sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall  succeed  me  in  my 
pilgrimage,  and  my  courage  and  skill  to  him  that 

7 


can  get  tliem.  My  marks  and  scars  I  carry  with 
me.  to  be  a  witness  for  me  that  I  have  fought  His 
battles,  who  will  now  be  a  rewarder.  ’  When  the 
day  that  he  must  go  hence  was  come  many  ac¬ 
companied  him  to  the  river  side,  into  which,  as 
he  went,  he  said  : 

“  ‘Death,  where  is  thy  sting?’  and  as  he  went 
down  deeper  he  said,  ‘Grave  where  is  thy  vic¬ 
tory  ?’ 

“So  he  passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets  sounded 
for  him  on  the  other  side.” 


Published  by  the  General  Literature  Committee 

OF  THE 

Woman's  Home  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of 
the  Lutheran  Church 

(General  Synod,) 

2319  Maryland  Ave.,  Baltimore,  M  d. 

1899. 


8  CENTS  EACH. 


25  CENTS  A  DOZEN. 


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